My Little Owl Queen
by Unique .F
Summary: That one bottle of elven wine did it all. "Well done, Jareth, getting it on with a female owl that might not even be an owl," he thought despairingly, "I am so screwed."
1. Now I Remember Why I Don't Drink

In retrospect, drinking that one bottle of elven wine was probably the most far reaching decision of his entire life. It was a potent brew, having aged in his cellars for over fifty years and made of magically enhanced fruits. Just four glasses would have put him to sleep, and Jareth was a man who held his liquor better than most fae. Only two would have made him insanely drunk, and a fae of his power drunk was a disaster waiting to happen.

But that day he had just found out that _She _was dead. Gone, missing, vanished without a trace...Excepting the blood up the walls, excepting the song of magic in the air, excepting the message written in her blood across the wall.

_Don't look for me,_

_Don't wish for me,_

_Don't cry for me._

As one could probably imagine, he didn't really give a damn about whether he was drunk or not.

Two entire bottles he drank. How he managed to stay awake long enough to down them, he had no idea.

The world span before him. Roaring drunk, he sang loudly off key. Staggering down the hallway with a foolish grin on his face.

Getting kicked out of pub after pub. Scowling heavily and stretching his magic. Obliterating half the goblin city by mistake.

Taking flight as an owl, erratically weaving from side to side, hooting wildly. Spotting a pretty young female darting through the trees. Taking off after her, calling throatily.

If he had been half-sober, he would've never done what he did that night. Not just because to sully himself with dull animals was disgusting, but in pity of his beget. Malformed, not fae, nor owl, outcast, dumb and most likely stillborn.

But, as mentioned, he didn't particularly give a damn about personal rules that night.

And the consequences haunted him ever after.


	2. I Swear, I've Seen You Before

_Chapter 2, I Swear, I've Seen You Before..._

He tapped his boot with his riding crop irritably, massaging his temples with one hand.

_Gods. _A headache pounded his skull, sending dull waves of pain through his cranium. Goblins chattered and laughed, to the background noise of a screaming baby.

He lounged, casting a weary eye over the wreckage of the nursery. _Thank God I keep them out of my throne room._

He conjured an crystal, instinctively directing it towards the thought of a particular brunette. A pang slashed his heart, and he threw the crystal against the wall.

The smash of crystal made the goblins jump. Blessed quietness.

He stood, towering over them. With a shimmer of glitter, he was gone, back in his chambers.

He collapsed against his bed, and spun a crystal.

Inside was the image of a snotty young teenager, whinging to the gatekeeper. He hadn't even got into the labyrinth yet, and nine hours had already passed.

He laughed and tossed the crystal in the air.

Unexpectedly, his thoughts returned to his drunken night out three months ago. And the she-owl whom he had not seen since.

He'd searched for her, with both magic and wing, but she'd never turned up. He wondered if he had gotten her pregnant, and if so, what his children would be like.

Jareth had never had the chance to be a father. He'd probably sired countless bastards, sure, but no woman had ever met to his expectations or hopes except _her, _and _she _was dead.

Had been for three months, now. He'd searched with magic, on foot, everywhere, but she was nowhere to be found.

Blinking furiously, he wiped away a traitor tear and moved to the window.

A screech shattered the peaceful silence. He jumped, toppling over his bed and fell to the floor with a crash.

Instinctively he formed a crystal and snapped into a defensive position. He scanned the room, on search for anything amiss.

Nothing.

Just as he straightened up, the cry came again. An owl. In pain.

Quickly he moved to the window and peered out. A she-owl clung to the vines twining round his window, wings flapping, sagging from exhaustion.

His eyes widened. The she-owl who'd been the victim of his drunken romp, he was sure. The markings about the eyes...

He scooped her up, wincing at her pained screech, and carried her to the bed. Her feathered breast heaved.

Her stomach was swollen. He blinked in shock as a spurt of liquid stained his sheets. Her wings flopped and she called again.

He conjured a crystal and ran it across her length. She eased as the pain disappeared with the crystal. Then he carefully rubbed her wearied body, massaging the two hard lumps of the oversized eggs.

She rose off the bed, flapping and squawking. When she collapsed again, a bloodied egg sat amid the chaos.

Jareth stared, shocked. An egg? An _egg? _

Her breathing was easier now the two eggs were out. Uttering a weak hoot, she dragged herself forward and flopped into his lap, drawing the two eggs with her.

The door burst open and Hoggle raced in, armed with a sword. A small troop of goblins followed him.

Hoggle's face screwed up in disgust as he glanced between the she-owl, the eggs, and Jareth. Then he turned and dismissed the goblins.

"Yer Majesty," Hoggle sneered, "Gettin' desperate?"

"No!" Jareth snapped. "I mean, no, no, yes...no. I don't know!"

The female cooed quietly. She looked utterly relaxed, sitting in the bewildered fae's lap, her two eggs tucked under each wing.

Hoggle raised an eyebrow, and glanced pointedly at the barn owl. "When did'ya pick 'er up, then?"

"I didn't!"

Hoggle sighed. "Yer Majesty, it's quite obvious she's yers."

"It isn't what it looks like I promise!" Jareth yelped, flushing, "I can explain!"

"No need to explain, Yer Majesty, you _are _the king, after all," Hoggle smirked, and vanished out the door.

As soon as he had gone, the female owl nipped his fingers in remonstration.

"Ouch! You little terror, you just bit me!" Jareth snapped crossly, tipping the owl off his lap.

She fluttered like a newborn chick, appearing to have forgotten how to use her wings for a moment. Her panicked hoots alarmed him.

Gently he placed the eggs on the bed and took his own owl form. He swiftly went to her aid and let her down on the bed. She nuzzled against his feathered chest, and awkwardly he tucked his head over her own.

She was crooning softly, leaning against him, giving him gentle nips that he understood as little owl-kisses. Clambering onto his back, ignoring his hooted protest, this unknown she-owl began to groom him gently, plucking out errant feathers.

Indignant, he flapped his wings and hooted irritably. He didn't like this. He didn't even know this owl.

Did she just roll her eyes? Was it even possible for an owl to roll their eyes?

She dug her sharp beak into his soft, fluffy feathers, and meekly he submitted to her grooming. Once she was finished, she hopped off him, ignoring his grumbles, and tottered over to the eggs, which she awkwardly sat on.

_This owl is...weird. Owls don't act like this. Well done, Jareth. Getting it on with a female owl that might not actually be an owl. _

Hooting softly, the female sent him a remonstrating look and unfurled her left wing in a pointed gesture. He moved to her side, and settled down, folding his wing over her to keep her warm.

_This isn't good, _he thought despairingly, _What am I supposed to do?_

**That, Jareth, is why you don't get drunk.**

**Jareth- I know...**

**Sarah- Am I in this? You know, being Jareth's 'true love'.**

**Yes. But you're dead, are you not? Or are you?**

**Jareth- It dosen't take three months for a female owl to nuture eggs.**

**I know, but this is a weird owl, remember?**

**Sarah- Poor lil owl, stuck with **_**that disgusting creature...**_


	3. Everything Looks Better In the Morning?

_Chapter 3, Everything Looks Better In the Morning?_

Morning came, and with it, his little she-owl's hunger. He woke in his fae form, with the she-owl snuggled in the crook of his arm with her two eggs. It felt right, somehow.

She cheeped, looking uncertain, but hungry. He smiled, and sat up, ignoring her garbled protest. Wrapping a blanket around his arm and placing a heated crystal underneath the eggs to keep them warm, he gestured for the owless to land on his blanketed arm. She did so, gripping the fabric uneasily as he rose and moved towards the table, upon which lay a platter of food.

Transferring the she-owl to a head of a chair, he sliced the bacon and sausages from his full English breakfast into bite sized pieces and offered them to her on the end of a knife.

She paused warily. Looking up into his eyes, she gently took the proffered tidbit. He noticed her eyes were strangely coloured for an owl's, but then he had already guessed this 'owl' was more than she seemed to be.

She had had nearly all the meat off his breakfast, and viciously attacked on hash brown, before she was sated. He guessed it had been some time since she had eaten last.

Then he himself sat down to the remains of his breakfast. The whole while, her eyes followed him, burning holes in his head.

"Who are you?" He asked conversationally, taking a baked bean topped bite of hash brown.

He munched on his fried bread, eyeing her speculatively. "I must say, you do have quite the animal form," his look turned laviscious, and she squeaked primly, "but I am _eager _to see what type of creature you are beneath the feathers."

She didn't reply, only shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. Her intense stare was almost literally burning holes in his head.

He laughed then, and extended his arm to his little owl. "A spy, are you? I assure you, all you'll find is a weary king running his kingdom. And don't play innocent owl," he grinned, "With a few exceptions, I am older than every female in the Underground excepting the Elders, and the Elders are all married. I think I have more information on how owls behave than you, little girl."

She hooted mournfully, and swept to his shoulder. He winced and magicked a shoulder pad.

"If you have the magic to turn into an owl," he said to her, "You have the magic to turn back." His smile turned rueful.

She shifted uneasily. She nipped his ear in an owl-kiss.

"It's alright," he sighed heavily. "I'm used to being mistrusted."

Standing, Jareth tugged off his shirt and went to the wardrobe, intending to dress. A startled squawk interrupted him. He turned, to see his little she-owl, his spy, covering her eyes with one wing, cheeping indignantly.

Jareth burst into laughter, sides heaving with a paroxysm of humour. "Oh, little spy, am I not pretty enough?"

She squeaked indifferently, turning her head away and pointing her beak in the air snobbishly. After a little while, she added in a hesitant affirmative, which set him off once more.

He shook his head. "Mostly women tend to prefer this form over my owl one," he teased, "But there's an exception to everything, isn't there, little queen?"

If owls could blush, this one would be on fire by now.

"Considering I've already had you in owl form..." he leered, grinning, "You could just transform back..."

Huffing, she resettled her wings and gave him the beady eye, pointedly keeping her eyes off his bare chest.

He chuckled, turning it into a joke. With a flick of his wrist, he was clothed.

"Come on, little spy, I need to go to the throne room."

Hooting unhappily, she tugged at his shirt as he tried to leave.

"I need to go, precious spy. You can come with me if you wish, or you may stay here. I won't force you." He smirked, the hole blown through his chest when _She _died throbbing lowly.

His she-owl flew to the bed, then back to him. She was clearly anxious. She cheeped, tugging at the blanket which hid her-their- eggs from view.

Jareth blinked, and a slow smile stretched over his face. He went to the wardrobe and pulled out a pouch large enough to hold his two children, along with a leather cord to go around his neck. With some padding and a few nifty knots, he fashioned an egg carrying device that would hang around his neck, hidden by the folds of his shirt, and be warmed by his body heat. He also imbued it with spells to keep his offspring safe. He didn't want them cracking before they were ready.

Then, his mate on his shoulder, he walked briskly out of the room and down the hallway.

They bumped into Hogpin halfway there, who gave the she-owl a sly smirk, and Jareth a barely disguised face of condescension.

"Yer Majesties." Higswog muttured, eyes twinkling.

Jareth did not miss the plural, and neither did his little spy. She squawked indignantly and flapped her wings, then suddenly settled into his shoulder, giving him an adoring look and rubbing her feathery head across his cheek.

Blinking, Jareth accepted this in his stride and returned with a smirk, "Hoghead."

"Hoggle, Yer Majesty." Hodgepig corrected, scowling. "Did'ya sleep alright?"

Inwardly, Jareth chuckled. "Oh, not well at all, actually, Higswine. I was rather..._distracted."_

The she-owl gave an almighty hoot at this. He wasn't sure whether it was laughter or rage.

Hidgpodge's face turned positively nauseous. "I don' need ta know, Yer Majesty!"

"You asked," Jareth reminded him suavely. "Yes, my night was _most pleasurable. _Truly memorable."

Higgle looked like he was about to throw up.

"Indeed," Jareth continued, as if in thought, absently stroking his owl's back, "It's amazing the wonders a bottle of elven wine will do."

His heart thudded dully. He'd had elven wine when _She'd _died. _I'll never touch a woman again, _he remembered swearing as he looked upon the bloodstained wall. Look how far that got me, Jareth thought drily. _Getting it on with an owl that may not actually be an owl. Well done._

As if she could sense his thoughts, his little she-owl rubbed her head against his cheek and hooted softly. She bit his jaw in the tenderest owl-kiss he'd got from her yet.

A smirk stole over his features and he gestured haughtily at Hiddle to be on his way.

The repulsive scab scurried off. If he'd looked back, he might have laughed at the sight of Jareth rubbing his jaw and glaring at the she-owl, whom apparently had taken the role of punisher.

Using magic, Jareth made a perch for the she owl to sit on out of his throne. She hooted gratefully and perched there while he sprawled across his throne messily. Contemplatively, Jareth reached up and ran a light knuckle down her spine. She shuddered, and pinned him with her dark eyes.

He smirked, and waved an insolent hand towards the goblins. Today was the day goblins could come to him to air their troubles. He did his best to give them all a fair trial, but by the end of the day he felt like sticking them all in the Bog.

Several times they had to repeat themselves. His mind and eyes were occupied with watching his she-owl most of the time. He'd missed having someone to watch and care for since..._she _had...gone.

Make no mistake, he was fairly devoted to his kingdom, and oftentimes was discovered being too zealous in his role as King. Nothing would fill the gap which _she _had left, but all the same, he enjoyed having someone to look after.

Unfortunately, his little owl queen wasn't that good at queenship as an owl. Obviously she couldn't-or just wouldn't?- turn back to her other form, so that would make explaining difficult. He smirked inwardly. He wasn't letting her go till he got some answers. No woman, no matter how delectable- save _her-_ could bend his will if he put his heart into it.

He considered schemes of how she could be of various use to himself or his kingdom as other then erstwhile mother of his heirs/heiresses. His favourite was keeping her as a sporting bird- the catches most often were given to the goblins, who then gave them to chickens. Apparently chickens liked diced rat and mice meat. Who'd guess?

But then, he added with a frown, the Goblin Kingdom's chickens were seriously strange compared to the average chicken. They had bones of almost steel, probably built up over the times he'd lobbed them out of windows, and the sharpest beak he'd even seen on a grain-eating bird.

Dragging his thoughts from his carnivorous chickens, Jareth turned to his spy, and said, "Well, we're done for the day. Officially, I don't have to bother with any kingdom stuff now, but unofficially, there's a huge stack of paperwork in my study that needs to be dealt with." She made a resigned sound and fluttered to his shoulder as he rose.

Her deadly talons sunk deep into the pad, keeping her balance. Companionably, he hummed softly, his boots casting an echoed tattoo on the dusty yellow stone.

She stiffened suddenly, hooting warningly. He glanced up, but was unable to discern anything out of the ordinary. He looked to her, but her head was turned away, her talons painfully clenched and her wings tensed for flight.

"Little spy-" He stopped, as realisation struck him.

"_Falling in love." _He whispered the last line, bowing his head. Tears ran freely down his cheeks as he mourned anew for his lost love.

_Why her, of all the people? Could you not just leave it at that, my heart broken, my will stolen, my kingdom in shambles and my soul bitter and grief-stricken? Did you have to kill her? Why are you so cruel, fate? What have I done? How have I sinned?_

"Ssssaa..." He couldn't say her name, it was too painful. Instead he dropped to his knees and wept, openly, freely, not caring if others saw him.

His owl was stroking her feathered head against his cheek, hooting reassuringly, trying to wipe away his tears with her wings.

Maybe he courted disaster, he didn't know, but he summoned a crystal, and turned his thoughts towards one dark haired girl. He didn't know if it would be better to see her broken body lying at a cliff base somewhere, or her gravestone.

Nothing. It remained clear, reflecting back on his face, and the little owl, desperately trying to distract him, to draw him out of his misery.

Anguished, he threw the crystal at the wall, where it shattered. "Oh, spy."

He clutched her tight, burying his face in her feathers. She crooned softly, reassuringly, and looked deep into his eyes.

_Whatever should go, _she seemed to whisper, _you have me._

"You are too kind to a lost king, little spy," he murmured, stroking her fluffy chest, "Do be careful."

She made an owlish sound of amusment, and spread her wings as if to say, _I'm not going anywhere._

He chuckled, and kissed her beak. "No," he whispered fervently, "You're not."


	4. Huntress

_Chapter 4, Huntress_

She supposed life wasn't bad, apart from the form she was forced to live in. Her King was unexpectedly kind and gracious to her, even though it was surely a crime to be so beautiful. He called her _Huntress, _and she liked the name. It suited her.

He took her out often on hunting trips, after training her how to come to his call and other things. She ate most of the catches, but the rest were given to the carnivorous chickens.

He was broken, she knew. Something, someone, had broken his heart and his soul. He grieved and mourned inside. She tried to get him to let it out, let it heal, but he was broken so irreparably she knew he would never be whole again. She vowed vengeance on the creature who had dared harm him that way.

Life was good. She was where she wanted to be, with _him._

((()))

Jareth searched the skies, a fleeting sense of anxiety banished by the familiar form swooping over the treetops. He whistled, and Huntress banked towards him, a fierce glint in her eye and a field mouse in her deadly claws.

"You could do better," he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

Artfully she dropped the catch into the leather bag he proffered and settled on his arm. Jareth had taken to wearing a leather bracer which would protect his forearm from her sharp claws.

He clicked his tongue and urged his grey war stallion forward. Huntress relocated herself to his padded shoulder, hooting a soft, adoring croon.

The Goblin King chuckled, and asked Bayan, his stallion, to go to a canter.

The mighty elven horse obliged, his heavy hooves thudding over the dirt as he picked up speed.

Huntress took flight and wheeled above him, calling a contemptuous challenge.

Jareth grinned, and Bayan began to gallop, his muscles straining and releasing. The ground sped past at an alarming rate.

The owless mocked them cheerfully, and Jareth laughed.

He loved these carefree mornings with his owl queen and his trusted comrade. People called him the Owl King, because of his apparent obsession with 'ordinary owls'. It had been five months since _her _death. Two months since Huntress had swept into his life, bringing sunshine and happiness to a weary, time-ravaged king once more.

They clattered into the courtyard, and Jareth dismounted his elven horse. He rubbed Bayan's silky ears and thanked the horse. The intelligent animal snorted softly and wickered. He trotted away to the open stable that was reserved for him.

Bayan would never be chained nor shut in. He was as intelligent as any man, if not more so, and Jareth respected his freedom.

Huntress roosted on his shoulder, hooting impatiently.

"Alright!" He smirked, and lightly ran up the stairs to the Throne Room.

Every morning he went out hunting with Huntress and Bayan. The spare catches he gave to the goblins' carnivorous chickens.

The first thing he did was check the closed basket molded from the spines in the top of his throne. The magically protected nest was perfectly safe. The two eggs nestled in the nest of feathers and blankets had grown again.

Jareth had already come to the conclusion his two children were of the odd variety. Apparently, they had been eggs for five months now, and appeared to be _growing. _How eggs could do that, he wasn't quite sure, but somehow, it happened. Fae women nutured children for at least nine years before giving birth, but he suspected Huntress was hardly an average Fae. Maybe she had human blood in her.

His little owl queen roosted on her perch, glaring imperiously at the goblins swarming around the throne. He tossed her two field mice, which she dug into with voracious hunger. The rest of the bag he tossed over the other side of the room.

The goblins fought against one another for possession of the contents while Jareth draped himself across his throne and summoned a crystal. Balancing it on his fingertips, he called up an image from deep within his heart.

_She _appeared on the surface. Her green eyes flashed as she drove him back, her dark hair whipping around her head in the windless Escher Room, her beautiful, tempting, luscious lips forming those cursed words...

How he loved her still, brave, foolish, despairing..._Sarah..._Nothing could have changed.

Huntress hooted warningly, raising her wings as if to take flight. Obligingly, he tossed the crystalline orb away, but his heart still wept. Huntress disliked it when he scryed Sarah.

He bowed his head, and whispered a soft name, his lyrical voice lilting lightly in the air, while an trapped prisoner languished in the form of her enemy.

**So he's healing, but he will never be healed? Talk about an oxymoron.**

**First Huntress Pov! Yay!**


	5. Drunken Night Romp No2

_Chapter 5, Drunken Night Romp No 2_

He caressed her soft feathers, kissing her beak gently. She hooted- a low, loving sound, eyes closed. With tender fingers he rubbed the gleaming oil into her wings, enjoying the blissful croon she made. Her feathers gleamed with health and the fine polish he was spreading into them. Her beak and talons shone with a fine gleam of oil.

Her dark eyes were the same as ever. Enticing, mysterious and...different. Not animal eyes. Not fae. Not human. Not anything he had seen.

Huntress rubbed her head against his thigh, and looked up into his eyes, tender adoration clearly portrayed.

"I love you too," he whispered softly, a quiet smile touching his lips.

She shook her head, blinking wistfully. She rolled one wing as if to summon a crystal ball and owl kissed his cheek.

He smiled, and held her close. How well she understood him. He loved her, she was everything to him, but..._She still wasn't Sarah._

He took to his owl form, letting his gaze linger on the round lumps of their two eggs. She snuggled into his chest, tucking her head beneath his wing.

He in return folded a wing over her body and owl-kissed the top of her head. She let out a sleepy protest, to which he grinned.

He nudged her again, and she made a full blown protest, beating her wings in his face until he settled down again.

So Jareth took off, to Huntress' consternation, and wheeled around the room once or twice. She leapt into flight after him, and swept out of the open window, tilting her wings in a dive. He followed her, clapping his wings together and diving as if a spear cast from high.

They danced amid the bejewelled sky, teasing and competing. Sometimes they would soar over the heads of goblins, with a hoot, to which the goblins would reply with a salutation. Huntress was well known in the Labyrinth.

Several times other birds joined them in their midnight romp, until they had a cloud of followers at one given time.

They whirled and wheeled, soared and swooped, hooting and screeched, sang and crooned. Several times they mated in the darkness of the night.

Both of them got roaring drunk until both could hardly stagger in a straight line. For the second time that year, Jareth got drunk on a bottle of elven wine. He really should have learned his lesson last time.

Luckily Huntress was with him, and was able to scare away other pretty birdies that insisted on following him (he swore one looked an awful lot like that snake Shantelle who'd tried to physically attack him once)

When the clock struck fifteen they staggered towards a big fluffy thing that may have been a bed- but hey, who cares...And collapsed on a shrieky thing that yelled at them and walked away and they laughed...And ale tasted nice...Sight was starting to blur...

_THUMP! _

They collapsed.

((()))

_Oooowwwweeeeesssss_, Jareth groaned, blinking fuzzily.

_Shit, my head feels like a rock, _he grumbled, staggering to his feet. His wings felt like leaden weights. _Wait- wings?_

Something large and fluffy blocked his path and he tumbled head over heels. He hit the ground with a thud and a loud complaint.

_Holy shit when did Huntress get so big? _He wondered groggily, blinking owlishly...

Owl. Oh.

His somewhat lover opened her dark eyes, yawning. She hooted weakly and stumbled to his side.

They bumped into one another and sent each other sprawling.

"Good morning Your Majesty!" Hoggle exclaimed in a cheerful, happy voice, "It's a good day today! Take a look outside!"

The obnoxious dwarf then proceeded to open the curtains, allowing bright, bright sunlight to pour forth.

Jareth and Huntress groaned, then collapsed.

"Up, up, up! You've got court today sir!" Hoggle continued in his insanely chipper voice.

_SHUT UP! _Jareth roared, but it came out as an infuriated squeak.  
>"Sorry sire! Can't understand ya!" The accursed dwarf yelled. "Would you like some water?"<p>

The dwarf 'accidently' tripped, sending a great jet of water over the hungover owls.

That, apparently, was the final straw for Huntress. She took off and divebombed Hoggle, raking him with her claws and hooting furiously in his face. The dwarf fled, screaming, and Huntress returned to him, hooting drowsily. She tucked his head under her wing.

Jareth was all too happy to lapse back into slumber, with his little owl queen by his side.

Elven wine. His worst mistakes _always _stemmed from elven wine.

**Uh oh...**

**Jareth- Oh damn...**

**Huntress- **_**My 'husband' has turned into an alcoholic...Sugar.**_

**Sarah- HELLO! WHAT ABOUT ME!**

**Me- YOU ARE DEAD! YOU ARE A DEAD, DECEASED, **_**EX **_**HUMAN! YOU SHOULD BE PUSHING UP THE DAISIES! FILLING IN THE BRICKS! YOU'VE KICKED THE BUCKET, POPPED YOUR CLOGS, GONE INTO ETERNAL SLEEP! **_**YOU ARE DEAD!**_

**Sarah- Alright, alright. Jeez. Can't I at least come into Jareth's dreams?**

**Me- Erm...I would rather keep this thing T-rated if it's all the same to you...**

**Sarah- NO! Not the creepy fantasy ones, a nightmare or something.**

**Me- To be fair, **_**all **_**of Jareth's dreams are creepy fantasies.**

**Jareth- Yeah...Usually it starts off with Sarah on a bed, wearing this really lacy strap thingie, and then-**

**Huntress- **_**HELLO? I AM STANDING RIGHT HERE!**_

**Jareth- And then usually she pulls me down, and starts to kiss me, running her hands through my-**

**Huntress- **_**OI! Shut the hell up!**_

**Jareth- And then, right, she starts doing this really weird moany thing, and thrusting-**

**Huntress- **_**HELLO! NO ONE WANTS TO KNOW!**_

**Jareth- -and then- Oh sorry, were you talking to me?**

**Huntress- **_**Who did you think I was speaking to?**_

**(Sarah begins to throw up. Unique looks nauseated. Huntress glares daggers at Sarah)**

**Jareth- Well, at least **_**I **_**enjoy my dreams.**


	6. Hatching? What? OH! That HATCHING!

_**Jareth- tyto alba alba**_

_**Sarah- tyto alba guttata**_

_Chapter 6, The Hatching_

For the first time in her life, the baby stirred. She tapped her sharp beak against the edge of her hard shell, the comforting darkness now stifling. Eagerly shoving against the weakening shell with more and more force, the youngling erupted into the noisy world with a flurry of eggshell and an indignant squawk. She bumbled awkwardly into her brother, cooing weakly. Her limbs flopped and tangled.

One of her nestmates was already beginning to coo hungrily, which then developed into a full shriek. The owl chick stumbled to another chick's side, screeching for food.

No mother appeared to drop food into the waiting mouths. No father roosted proudly over them.

Noise erupted in a corner of the room and the world was suddenly shadowed by a dark thing with a horrid wrinkly, flat face and buggy _blue _eyes. How could it see with blue eyes?

The ugly thing gargled horribly in its icky language. She wondered what the cracking brown things in its mouth were.

She squeaked in pain as one of the other chicks viciously stabbed her with its beak. Stumbling out of the way, she retreated beneath the onslaught of blows. They were hungry.

And then a lovely sound, a shrill, adoring coo, and a beautiful she-owl swept into view. She had speckled brown feathers, brown-gold and grey, all down her back. Her underside was a reddy brown, speckled with black spots. Her heart shaped face was pale white, and resembled a mask with oblique black eye slits. Her irises were dark brown, and her beak dark buff yellow. Her toes were pinkish grey, and her talons black.

Behind her flew a male, slightly larger than she, with lighter colouring. His feathers were more light brown with occasional tints of gold. His dark eyes seemed to gleam with un-owl-like emotion. His white breast was entirely un-speckled and he carried himself with pride.

The male shrieked commandingly, settling on the top of the box-cage-thing the chicks were in. He re-shuffled his handsome, large brown-grey wings and repeated his shrill command.

The female, whom the chicks noticed with great delight was carrying a dessicated fieldmouse, swept into the nest and dropped the meal. The three chicks all lunged for it at once.

Crying in hunger, the little girl was batted away by her stronger and older brother, who savagely dug into his food. Her other sister tried valiantly to battle her way past their vicious brother, going so far as to screech defiantly. She backpedadled on her weak newborn wings as he turned and snapped at her. She flailed her claws, and he retreated slightly under the barrage of slashes.

Something thick and delicious smacked onto the little hatchling's head. Joyfully the baby ripped into her food, and the fight was resolved.

Leaving alone the second little girl, who shrieked demandingly for food. Obligingly her mother dropped another mouse into the box.

They ate until their small bellies were full. Once they had finished, the male shrieked again and re-settled, preparing to keep watch. The mother nestled her babies close to her, carefully helping to remove the hatchling fuzz on their adorable little bodies.

It didn't take them long to fall asleep.

Huntress beamed proudly up at her sort-of-husband, cooing her pride. He twittered at her, re-shuffling his wings and blinking his wise eyes.

He took flight and shivered into Fae form, whereupon he returned to her and stroked her head. Huntress owl-kissed his finger gently, rubbing her head under his gloved palm. He chuckled, and shook his head.

"I despair," he told her ruefully, looking down at their sleeping children, "of ever teaching them how to change form when they are so like you, my love."

And Huntress just re-shuffled her wings and pinned him with a smug dark-eyed stare. _If there's any justice in the world, _she thought to herself drily, _they'll cause you nothing but headaches, my dear._

**Jareth- Oh dear. I was late to my own children's births? Aww...**

**Huntress- Well, I have to say, I don't mind that much. I mean, no one died.**

**Sarah- Sometimes I forget you're a wild owl. Then I remember, when you try and bite my fingers off.**

**Hoggle- For your sakes I'm just going to ignore that description of me. Huh! Horrid flat face indeed! **


	7. Do Birds Get Rabies?

_Do Birds Get Rabies?_

"Huntress, what are we going to call them?" The father asked the owless, yawning prodigiously. _Hmm, tiredness, odd feeling this. I wonder, do humans feel like this all the time? Haha, you suck!_

Huntress shuffled her beautiful wings and blinked her wise dark eyes. She shuffled closer to him and rubbed her head against his hand.

"Beautiful girl," he murmured to her, and kissed her feathers carefully. Huntress cooed happily. _Good birdie..._

Jareth could barely reconcile himself to the fact not only did he have a sort-of partner who loved him unconditionally but he was also a father of three beautiful owl chicks. Sure, it was slightly controversial, but he honestly couldn't care. And slightly weird to go, _"Oh look at my...feathery...children! I see they take after their mother!" _When Sarah had gone, he had thought never to find companionship again. Instead he had found company in an owl, no ordinary owl, but an owl nonetheless. Yes, he was pretty sure by now that Huntress was just a wee bit strange compared to other owls. Really, how many owls do you know dance around to music?

He had a son and two daughters. The son had already proved himself to be strong and demanding, the sister had backbone and incredible defiance and the last one was sweet and innocent. He was tempted to call the defiant sister Sarah, but reluctantly decided not to.

"But it wouldn't have been so awesome, _"Bad Sarah!" _heeheeeheee..." Jareth thought out loud. He received a glare from Huntress.

_I can feel my life expectancy lowering..._

He leaned away from her inconscipiciously. She scowled.

Huntress suddenly perked up and flew to the fireplace. Confused, Jareth followed after her and crouched down. "What is it?" he asked her.

She was scratching around in the ashes with her claws, hopping excitedly. Letting loose a raucous call, she knelt forward and began drawing in the ash with her beak.

R

"Whiyr?" Jareth repeated, confused. "You can write? Huntress!"

_My crazy owl queen that can write..._"I knew there was something fishy about you..."

Huntress hopped up and down, nuzzling his hand. She cheeped, as if to say, _yeah, so what? _She turned to the ashes and wrote painstakingly,

T

_Wax tablet..._He summoned it for her easily, along with a cloth. He wiped the ash from her beak, and passed her a stylus. She gripped it in her sharp beak and wrote,

CALL GIRL WHIYR / VEYR. BOY JEHAL

"Whiyr, Veyr or Jehal?" Jareth repeated. He shook his head. "No, I like Whiyr, but not Veyr. What about Maela?"  
>She cocked her head and cheeped inquisitively. He grinned and translated, "It means quiet."<p>

Huntress shrieked a negative.

YAELA CERYWEN LUKAI

"Lukai I like for the boy, and Cerywen is a good name too," Jareth decided. "But what about Mepha? I don't like Yaela, it reminds me of my old music teacher. Her name was Yala, and she was the most bog-awful woman on the Earth..."

Huntress shook her head and bit him.

"OW!"

Huntress cheeped and wrote apologetically,

LOVE YOU

"Crazy bird," He said affectionately, and kissed her head. "I can't believe you just bit me. I bet you have rabies or something. Can birds get rabies?"

He received a dark glare.

"I'll shut up now."


	8. For the Night is Dark and Full of Terror

_Chapter 8, "'For the Night is Dark and Full of Terrors'"_

In the sheer darkness of the night, when the stars were hidden behind a thick layer of clouds and the moon a frail waif in the sky, when inky blackness clung to the ramparts of the stony cold castle, and lurked within the passages of the sprawling labyrinth, stalked through the streets of the ramshackle city, it found a silent welcome. No adventurer dared brave the deathly dark, and monsters with eyes like glowing red coals prowled the streets of men and goblins like patrons of death.

Within the slumbering castle, where servants curled up on their fine beds of rough straw and uneven stones, where a pure white horse, standing in a stable alone with the door left open, pricked up his ears and shifted uneasily, his hoof sparking a bright flare in the stubborn darkness, where magic ran slow and sluggish through the stones themselves, where a dark-eyed thief stole silently into the kitchens, slept a king. Silently laying beside him with eyes gleaming in the darkness like liquid jet, there was a stranger.

She was female, and she wore nothing but a blanket wrapped around herself to ward off the chill. Her hair was long, and her form graceful, but what colour her locks might be, her eyes, or even her skin, was lost in the darkness.

It would not be unnatural, to find a woman in the king's bed, were it not for an important fact that all but the mysterious stranger seemed to know.

His breathing was steady and even, eyes closed, body curved as if he had been holding to his chest something infinitesimally precious. He was unaware.

The windows stood open, the drapes blowing softly in a breeze, and before it was a scarred bird perch, made out of fine dark wood. The headboard was similarly scratched, and the backs of the chairs at the rich dining table. It was obvious the man kept some sort of taloned bird, but where was it?

The figure stood, wrapping the blanket more tightly around herself, and went to the wardrobe, which she opened easily and silently, the doors opening on oiled hinges. From the depths she withdrew a simple robe, and put it on, wherein she returned to the sleeping aristocrat.

Boldly she knelt on the bed beside him, and caressed his face, turning it this way and that. He stirred in his sleep, and she spoke softly in a voice reserved for him and him alone, "Wake, my lord."

He shifted, and mumbled something in his sleep. If one could see through the darkness, the woman might have smiled. "Wake," she bid him.

But then she drew a cloth over his eyes, so that he might not see her. This time the king's mismatched eyes flew wide open, and he struggled mightily, convinced he was under attack.

He stilled suddenly, in recognition. This was a _woman. _Why on earth...?

"Shh," she murmured in his ear, her tender hands cupping his jaw, "Shh, my king, my beautiful king."

The voice was familiar, as if from a half-remembered dream...An owl's cry, a shape in the sky, proud on wing, queen to king..."Huntress!" he gasped.

"My love," Huntress answered, "My love, finally I can speak to you." There was weariness of a thousand years in that soft statement, the tender name.

"Let me see you!" He demanded, struggling again. "Who are you, devil? Why have you come to stalk me now?"

"No!" She was distressed now, "I bring you no evil, I wished only to see your face with my own eyes."

Bitterly, with the rage of a man who has lost everything, rebuilt in time for it to only be torn away again, he growled, "Slip the knife in my ribs now, bitch, and be done with it. Spare me your petty carpings, I need not another betrayal."

She slapped him hard, and he took it silently, though beneath the blind he paled in anger. "How dare you!" She hissed angrily, "You are the father of my children! You _are my king! _You think I am so fickle, to betray you at the turn of a word! I see," she said, in bitter contempt, "The blood of kings has weakened! You are more a fool than you ever were, _owl king._"

"For good reason, I mistrust you! From the day you stumbled into my room there was something different about you. I begged you cast of your disguise- and you did not. I allowed you to stay," he sighed, weary and bitter at the same time, like a cold northern wind, "I took you into my confidence, I _loved _you and I still do."

"If you knew I was different," Huntress whispered, lying beside him and wrapping her arms around him gently, "Then why are you angry? I didn't betray you, I showed you the truth."

The king began to cry. Any other would have been shocked, stunned, flabbergasted, but Huntress just pulled him closer and hummed in his pointed ear. "Why?" He gasped, looking up to her but foiled by her hand, gently pressed over his eyes.

"A curse, my king," the owl-woman told him, "Given me by some hag. You were never to look upon my face nor know my kiss, and I would forced to take up a guise so you would not recognise me, if you would at all, 'cept on these the blackest of nights where I do not need it. Otherwise, you would die. I love you, old owl, you are my sun-and-stars."

"Huntress..." he whispered, and then shook his head and demanded with a trace of his former vigour, "Why, for the love of the Labyrinth, didn't you wait until _tomorrow? _I have to get up at dawn!"

"Hmm," Huntress replied, running her fingers through his hair, "A problem."

Jareth shivered and said slightly sharply, "I thought you said-"

"I said, not a kiss," she purred wickedly, and sighed. "Although you are right." She made a disgusted sound, and quoted, "'Most ladies seem to prefer this form over my owl one, but I suppose there's always one."'

"Don't throw my own words at me!" Jareth reached for her face and found it, tracing the contours of her cheeks, her lips, her eyes, her neck. "Now," he said, slightly irritably, "I really do have to get up tomorrow, so keep your dark secret and go to sleep. And," he raised an invisible finger in the darkness, "I don't want to know if secretly you're a hagraven*."  
>Huntress laughed, and did as he bid.<p>

And so the night was dark, the monsters prowled, the servants curled and the king slept, and a stranger lay quietly in the arms of her king.

***(a horrible half-bird, half-man creature, with deadly talons used in close combat and good at destructive spells. Related to the siren. Has a entrancing call and eats the souls of its prey. Oh yeah, did I mention, it looks like a mummified bird man thing, like a harpy only worse.)**


	9. WHO ARE YOU!

_Chapter 9, Who Are You!_

Cerywen snuggled against her father, wailing throatily. Her little red face was scrunched up and angry. She was the first sister born, and once Lukai had tried out his Fae form nothing could do but if she did it too. Mepha was content to cuddle up to her fierce mother and cheep innocently.

Subsequently the two parents had their hands full. Lukai was exactly like his dad, complete with a little shock of bright yellow hair that Huntress found adorable, and flinty mismatched eyes. In the darkness of the night Huntress often remarked to Jareth that she was worried about telling them apart when they got older.

Cerywen had a small dusting of brown hair and lovely blue eyes the colour of the summer sky. Mepha had the most perfect, beautifully innocent green eyes and straw yellow hair that went everywhere no matter what the maids tried to do to it. Huntress blamed Jareth for that.

In their owl forms, they were equally beautiful. Lukai had a snowy white chest and caramel and grey wings, like his father, whereas Cerywen was speckled and brown, almost exactly the colour of her hair. Mepha was white, but with a spotty black chest and darker brown wings than Lukai. To the three children's frustration, their owl forms grew as slowly as their faerie. They had only just started taking their first steps.

Suddenly, with a shimmer of magic, Cerywen popped back into her owl form. The squirming chick _shree_-ed irritably. Lukai answered from his position by Huntress with a wail.

Jareth put Cerywen down next to her mother, stroking Huntress's head lovingly. The owl-woman cooed and rubbed her head against his hand, gently nipping his thumb in what Jareth considered an owl-kiss.

They were in the palace nursery, a homely room containing three cots, a conspicuous window which was high enough to not endanger the children and give Huntress free access, a large owl perch big enough at a stretch for four or so owls, a cupboard containing the Underground equivelant of nappies, a owl friendly litterbox, a box lined with blankets with a hole cut in the side, in which Huntress rested, Cerywen and Mepha snuggled up against her. Lukai waved his chubby fists in one of the cots.

Jareth picked up his squalling son, calming him with a few pats on the back. Lukai gurgled cheerily. A goblin maid entered with a cup of baby food. In the other hand she held some diced up rat, which she didn't seem too fond of carrying. Jareth thanked her and tossed the diced rat to Huntress and her brood while he fed his son the more human way.

It was touch and go with mealtimes. Lukai, Cerywen and Mepha tended to switch forms all the time, so whichever they were when the food was presented was pot luck. They tended to sleep after a meal, which was good; otherwise they would have got serious indigestion from switching metabolisms every five seconds.

Hoggle entered after knocking politely. He glanced at his King and murmured a polite greeting and then bowed to Huntress. It was amazing the change in Hoggle after the three children had hatched. He was always respectful to Jareth now, and to Huntress he showed anything short of blind devotion. He was always willing to look after the three children for a short while so that Jareth and his owl queen could have some breathing time together. With Jareth being the king, he didn't have as much free time as he'd like and more and more often he found himself going to sleep somewhere around midnight and waking himself before dawn.

His advisors were all advising him to delegate responsibility, but they were all jumped-up knaves who thought nothing but of the gold in their pockets, so he ignored them most of the time. He had entrusted his army to Sir Didymus, a suggestion of Huntress's one black night, and there was visible improvement.

Ludo was shockingly clever for a yeti, after he had nearly frozen himself alive in a large fridge and it was discovered that the only reason he was dumb was because of the hot temperature slowed a brain used to working in arctic temperatures. After Jareth warded his head so that it was always fanned by freezing air that others couldn't sense, he became invaluable. To him Jareth entrusted most of the problems with the Goblin City.

There were still too many demands on his time, that when he and Huntress did get away, all he wanted to do was sleep. And in the rare black nights when Huntress regained her shadowy female form, he usually only mumbled a sleepy "hey" before turning over and going back to sleep. To spare him as much as she could, Huntress usually looked after their children for most of the time.

Jareth replaced Lukai in his cot, and tugged himself into his owl form, blinking in the brightness of the day. Huntress crooned and fluttered to his side, looking up at him with her round black eyes, like marbles made of polished jet. The brown iris was as big as it could go- it was not only he who found the light too bright.

His owl form reflected his tiredness. His feathers were dull and his beak no longer shone. His eyes were slightly glazed and he generally looked straggly.

He lifted his wings and took flight, a feather drifting away and landing on the floor. Huntress hardly looked better. They were both shattered.

Jareth dipped out of the window and dived, straight towards the ground. Just before he was about to hit the ground, he pulled up and into a dizzying turn, straight through the black maw of an open window.

Once in the cellars, he shivered back into fae form and unlocked the door. Huntress swooped in after him as he walked forward and shut the door, locking it.

The air was musty and it was pitch black. Jareth couldn't see anything, so he unsteadily walked forward, hands brushing over wine barrels and beer kegs towards the back of the room. A faint rustle told him Huntress had got there first.

"Love," she murmured. They had hauled an old mattress down here and lumped in with blankets. A alarm clock stood, its face dark. Jareth had removed the light. It would only ring now. Huntress had slipped on the bathrobe she kept down here so she had something to cover herself with.

No one else knew about this place, it was their secret hideout from the world. Jareth crawled onto the lumpy mattress beside Huntress and sighed, wrapping her in his arms and burying his face in her hair.

He still knew very little about his mysterious owl queen. He knew that she had been once a normal young woman, who had then been cursed by a hag and had suffered an accident. Somehow events had conspired that she had been there on the night of his shame, and when she had realised that things were not as they seemed, she had travelled back to the Goblin City and to him, just in time for her three eggs to be laid. Then she had stayed with him, out of love, until the eclipse had enabled her to show him that she truly was no simple owl.

Of who she was, her name, what she looked like in the light, why she had been cursed, and most troubling of all, how she had known him when he himself couldn't recognise her, though she had said that their love had been the greatest of all ages, he knew nothing. He didn't know what accident she had had, he didn't even know what race she was, since he suspected she was immortal, thus ruling out humans, but no Fae was remotely similar to her, her face shape and bones were completely different.

It was those questions that nagged at the back of his mind in the darkness of the night, when it was too light for Huntress to Change and too dark to work.

She shifted beside him, brushing her fingers over his lips and humming softly to herself. Jareth sighed, like a lithe dark feline, being stroked.

"Huntress," he mumbled sleepily, after a while.

"Love?" She murmured, her soft voice barely a whisper.

"Who are you?"

Huntress's body turned to stone. She stiffly pushed him away and retreated with the soft rustle of fabric over skin. He reached out, discovering her lower back, and replacing his hand on her shoulder, gently tugging her to face him, although she was invisible in the dark, as was he. Her muscles were taut under his palms. "You know I cannot speak of that," she said in a hard voice.

"Can't you?" Jareth pushed, "Why? Why did this random witch curse you?"

She was silent for the longest time. The seconds dragged by, and Jareth resisted the urge to shake her until she told him. Then, so quietly whispered he barely caught it, she said, "I don't know."

Unaccountably shaken by her answer, Jareth waited for her to elaborate. When she remained silent, he asked softly, "What did she do?"

Huntress shifted away restlessly. She obviously didn't like his questions and although Jareth felt guilty for asking her what made her uncomfortable, he had to know. "I could break it." He told her gently.

"No!" She cried suddenly, and grabbed his shoulders to emphasise the negative. "No. She would kill you."

"That is very difficult," Jareth assured her, "And not for wont of trying. Even _I _can't kill me."

"She could," Huntress insisted fearfully, "She knows how. She knows how to kill you and she will do it."

"Alright," he agreed softly, because it was obviously upsetting her and he didn't like Huntress upset. So he tried a different tack. "You said you had an accident..."

All the pliability went out of her once more, and Jareth was left holding the equivelant of a statue and wishing things were simpler. And then she said in a terrible voice, "Yes." She was completely devoid of emotion.

"What was it?" Jareth pressured gently, caressing her face. "Tell me, Huntress..."

She pushed his hand away so forcefully that Jareth involuntarily blinked in shock. She pulled out of his arms and away, the old mattress creaking as she settled on the very edge. "You don't want to see me," she told him, "If you could see my face, you wouldn't love me anymore." She sounded lost and alone and terribly sad, and suddenly very childlike.

His heart went out for her, and all of a sudden Jareth became very certain that he loved Huntress, loved her even though she was cursed. What she looked like under the feathers didn't matter to him, but what did matter was who she was.

For the first time in almost two years since her death, Jareth found himself thinking of Sarah.

Sarah, with her large innocent eyes and long brown hair, with her fiery defiance and her gentle compassion. Beautiful, young Sarah, Sarah who had died before she hit even twenty. She hadn't deserved to die, and to suicide...To deliberately throw away that glowing life, full of opportunities and just beginning. She had destroyed him, cracked the ice that surrounded him, and yet it was her that had brought him Huntress. If it hadn't been for Sarah, he would have never have gotten drunk and met Huntress, and if it hadn't been for Sarah, Huntress would've never stayed to fix something broken. In Sarah, he had hoped to find his queen, and she had given him one.

He still loved Sarah. He always would. Just as he now would always love Huntress, he would always mourn her death. The pain was easier, but on no account had it gone away. People said time healed all wounds. Unfortunately they were mortals and didn't know what it was like to have never-ending time.

Vividly he recalled her flashing eyes, the unknowing cruelty of her words as she drove him backwards, towards his doom. He remembered her as clearly as if he had seen her only a few seconds ago rather than nearly four years.

"Huntress," He sighed patiently, all of his age suddenly weighing heavily on his shoulders, "I didn't even know you had a face until the eclipse, yet I loved you then. No matter if you are ugly, you are still my love and always will be."

He thought she was weeping, because when she answered him her voice was thick. "I _am _ugly! I am terrible, I am horrific. It doesn't matter, your love that you held for me before, you would not love me now."

"It doesn't matter?" Jareth queried dangerously, his lip curling back over his teeth. "_I don't matter?"_

"No!" She cried, shocked, "I- no. You are my sun-and-stars, nothing matters to me more. I love you till the end of time, you know that." She grabbed his hand and lifted it to her cheek. In a gasping voice nearly a sob, she said, "Touch me...the scars..."

Jareth could feel nothing when he stroked her cheek. She altered the direction of his hand to horizontal, so that his nails dragged across her cheek. He gasped.

Ragged scars caught on his nails, thousands and thousands of long vertical slashes in her face, over her eyes, her mouth, her nose, her cheeks, her forehead, testimony to some great and terrible pain. His fingers trailed down her neck, and it was the same there too, only slightly more diagonal, as if her head had lolled to one side.

And over her body, a crazy criss-cross of long thin scars- she had been scratched and ripped, thrown helplessly from side to side, it felt almost as if she had been trapped in a pit of daggers.

"Huntress!" He exclaimed, and all too clearly could he envisage the wreck the scars would have made of her face.

"See!" Huntress choked, "Do you see now? The hag did this to me, tying me to a rock and throwing me down a narrow cliff, just so that I would never try and break the curse, because you would be revolted by my very face."

"Oh, my love," Jareth whispered, and held her tight while she cried into his chest like a child.

"She hated me because you loved me," Huntress finally admitted, "And yet when I came to you, you didn't even know me!"

In growing horror, he listened to her sobs, the whole sordid tale beginning to spill out. "I can't tell you who I am. I thought you'd know me! But you don't, you never cared for me anyway. It was all for _her," _Huntress spat. "How could I hope to compete with _her! _So I left! I left, but the hag tracked me down and cursed me because fleetingly, half-heartedly, you had loved me."

She drew herself to her feet, pushing him away. "And when I found you again, hoping maybe, just to see your face, you _didn't care. _You didn't _bother. _All you cared about was _her, _that pathetic _whore_."

"It's your entire fault!" Huntress screamed. "It's your entire fucking fault!"

"Who are you?" Jareth cried, _"WHO ARE YOU?"_

**Who is Huntress? And what is going to happen to them now?**


	10. She's Never Coming Back

_Chapter 10, She's Never Coming Back_

Hoggle peered out of the window. He just caught the sight of a distraught female owl spiralling from the ground, beating her wings strongly and shrieking in distress. Barely a second later, the Goblin King erupted from nowhere, shouting for Huntress to come back. Hoggle scowled at the anguished man, and smirked viciously upon seeing the torment on the immortal's face. Served him right, for all he did to her.

Hoggle sighed, watching the majestic sight of the owl disappearing quickly over the horizon. Below him the Goblin King exploded into owl form in a messy shower of glitter and errant feathers. Labouring into the air, the pathetic male owl called helplessly. He was too weak to keep up with the fit and active Huntress, who _knew _when to sleep and rest. And now, Hoggle thought spitefully, he would pay for not listening to her.

The dwarf turned away from the owl struggling into the air. Huntress was long gone by now. He crossed the room to the crib where the rat bastard's son slept peacefully, looking so like his sire Hoggle felt the extreme urge to strangle him, like he could never do to the Goblin King. Nevertheless, he picked up the child, and tenderly, too, because she had asked him to take care of the three brats. Hoggle would never understand why she had allowed herself to be sullied by the rat, when she should have just slit his throat as soon as she could, but then, it was not Hoggle's place to question her.

Barely was Hoggle able to restrain a cruel smirk that would have appeared quite at home on the Goblin King's lips, as he bent industriously to resettle the owl babes.

She'd be far away now, and she'd never have to come back.

Huntress seethed, diving down underneath the canopy of the treetops. How _dare _he? She gave him everything she had, nurtured his children and loved him to the best of her ability, and yet he _betrayed _her.

Had she not done everything he had asked? Cared for him, fixed him, mended him, loved him? She'd even ignored that business with _her. _

If owls could cry, Huntress would have tears pouring down her feathery cheeks. Instead, she huddled into the branch of a tree, gripping the bark strongly with her claws.

How could he do such a thing to her? He'd said he'd loved her. And then when she'd had to go, he'd gone behind her back and...She shuddered in disgust. Even the _thought _of him with another woman injured her so badly she felt the tears threaten to spill. He'd known it would hurt her. But he'd never really cared, had he after all? How could she forgive him? But if she could not forgive, she could forget. Patiently she had cared for him as he got over himself, she had _ignored _it, dealt with it, and yet...

After all she'd done, after all she tried to do, she still wasn't...wasn't _enough. _

Huntress cried to the trees, her lament echoing off the branches. She wasn't _good enough. _She could never meet his expectations, he had always been _disappointed _with her.

Oh, he loved his children, he cherished them and delighted in every step of their growth and development. It was just her, his queen, that he ignored and avoided.

_Why? _The owl asked the world, her inky eyes dull with pain, _Why would he do this to me? _Her head dropped into her feathered breast. _How could he?_

Who was she! _Who was she!_

It was no use, he wasn't strong enough. Helplessly he tumbled back to earth, splashing into a large pool. Spluttering he surfaced and transformed, cutting through the water with easy strokes.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! _Why had he driven her away? Agonised, Jareth ran towards where she had flown, but he knew he would never find her. Sarah had left him, Huntress had left him!

It didn't matter who she was. It didn't matter anymore, as long as he had her back, please don't make him live through this again! Tears streamed down his pale cheeks as he stopped, dropping to his knees as the dreadful truth hit him,

_Huntress was never coming back._

**Just who is dear Huntress? Who is this mystery woman-owl, and who is the woman Jareth betrayed her with? Questions reveal only more questions...**

**Sarah- I'm so confused...**

**Jareth- This REALLY isn't fair. I had one love, she **_**died, **_**I found another, she ran away! Am I THAT BAD?**

**Sarah- Yes.**

**Huntress- No comment.**

**Hoggle- *chuckles nastily***

**Jareth- This is abuse. You all abuse me! What did I ever do wrong! Some great transgression in a past life!**


	11. Hunters In The Shadows

**Sarah- *breathes conspicuously***

**Jareth- Shut up!**

**Sarah- I didn't say anything!**

**Jareth- But you were going to, weren't you?**

**Huntress- For Godssakes, shut up Jareth. Stop being paranoid.**

**Jareth- And you too! Aha! I have you now, spy!**

**Huntress- You know- *shrieks as Jareth conjures a cage and locks her in***

**Unique- Hey, guys, what's going on here? Jareth, are you being an idiot again?**

**Jareth- *starts twitching***

**Sarah- He's convinced that everyone is trying to either kill him or betray him to a secret network of guinea pigs that inhabit the ceiling and work as secret agents. Don't ask me why.**

**Unique- A secret agency of guinea pigs? **_**Guinea pigs? **_**Dear God, Sarah, have you been drugging him again?**

**Sarah- Hey, I've **_**never **_**drugged anyone! That's Weirdo over there! *points to Jareth, who is now jumping around the room and exclaiming "'You can't catch me, infidels!"'***

***Hoggle looks guilty***

**Unique- Oh, Hoggle, did you try and poison Jareth again? How many times have I got to tell you, he has diplomatic immunity, and anything you give him just makes him odd in the head?**

**Hoggle- I ain't done nothin'.**

**Jareth- *screams and starts inexplicably strangling himself***

**Unique- *sighs* Sarah, go sort him out. The trank guns are in the cupboard in the kitchen. Only use the green one, Sarah. Sarah! **_**Not **_**the purple one, that's a nuclear bomb, **_**green one. **_

**Sarah- This would be so much easier if you labelled which were trank guns and which were nuclear explosives.**

**Unique- Meh, labels are for imbeciles. Anyway, rolling the chapter!**

_Chapter 11, Hunters In the Shadows_

The wind-of-evening-chill-above-hills, which was different from the wind-of-evening-chill-above-flat-land, shifted.

The owl queen tilted her wings to make advantage of the slight wind, adjusting her position to account for changes in the speed and pressure of the air that supported her slight weight thousands of feet above the shadowed land below.

If she had a nose, she would have breathed in deeply, relishing the cool, almost frosty touch of air-just-before-winter, but she didn't, so instead she allowed it to ruffle her feathers playfully. If she had a mouth, she would have smiled a slight smile. If her round black eyes like marbles weren't fixed on the hilly hummocks below her, she would have closed them in appreciation for a fine night.

She imagined how the evening moonlight would make her into a ghostly spectre drifting along the nighttime currents, gilding her white-brown feathers until she looked like a mobile star. How those who saw her circling in the sky must marvel at the sight, a proud huntress on wing, and she glowed with pleasure, content in the knowledge that the night was the most perfect night, and she a phantom, the most beautiful of creatures to soar the bejewelled skies.

For who could hope to compare with the purity of her feathers; and her proud, elegant beak; and her wings, so perfectly shaped and fair; her curved claws that could crush a bone as easily as a man a twig? Not any normal owl, who could not hope to compare with the majesty and knowing power of one like her. Nor could any of _them, _whose power and trickery had twisted their minds, and their vanity let them down. No, she was the most stunning creature in the Underground.

The night was a perfect night. The slight frosty chill was refreshing, her belly was full, the sky was clear, and there was nothing she needed to attend to, besides watching for a snack, which she did anyway, as a matter of instinct.

Her happiness had only one flaw, but it was a profound flaw, and the longer she considered it, the more discontented she grew, until she realised she wanted Jareth there to share the night skies with her. That made her angry, and soured her pleasure at the simple beauty of the round pale moon and the twinkling stars. All the same, she could not help but wonder what he was doing, if he was thinking about her. And her children! Oh, how she missed her sweet, innocent Mepha, her defiant, strong Cerywen, and her clever, mischievous Lukai.

Huntress almost turned and headed right back for the distant castle then, her resolve crumbling and weakening. Her poor babies, they needed her. And she had just abandoned them, over a quarrel with their idiot father.

The thought of Jareth quelled her wistful thoughts instantly. The arrogant jerk! How she wanted to be able to cradled in his arms again. If she had a nose, she would have snorted. How she wanted to rip his head off or at least shut him in a cupboard when he irritated her.

Huntress 'sniffed' and dove suddenly for a scrambling mouse, and missed. The mouse continued on its way unmolested, which only exacerbated her foul mood. For a second, she considered chasing it, but then decided it was not worth bothering herself when she wasn't even hungry anyway.

Correcting her course to change with the wind, Huntress banked over the field, her sharp eyes sweeping over the thick grasses below. The terrain was hilly and marshy, choked with thick rolling grass. She was near the start of the river Syntha, and the rain here, when it fell, was often and thick. The rainwater then made its way as a tiny trickle off the moorland, where it widened into a deluge and thundered onwards in a southeastern course through the Goblin Kingdom. From there, she knew little.

She let loose a proud shriek, and studied the ground far below, and all the scurrying things that strove to hide from her hunter's eyes. Even from her height of thousands of feet, she could count the feathers on the back of a darting brown bird that hopped irregularly over the grasses. She could see a blur of brown as an adventuring rabbit darted to its warren. And she could hear the high-pitched squeaks of frightened animals warning their brethren of her presence.

Though it meant she would have to wait if she wished another snack, their wavering cries gratified her. It was only right that her food should fear her; if she ever should fear it, she would know it was her time to die.

It was oft said that to stay in another creature's form was the most perilous act of magic ever attempted. The danger of losing oneself increased the longer they stayed in the borrowed form, and if that should happen then they would cease to remember who they really were and be stuck as the creature for the rest of their days. Huntress knew that her time as an owl was shaping her personality into something different then it previously was, although she kept a firm hold on herself as much as she could, not allowing herself to be lost to mating heat or hunger pangs.

She knew that her longing for the skies was matched by only one thing, her need for Jareth, and her love for her children. It was that that had kept her from submerging herself in the thoughts of an owl, for owls did not long for their children with all their tiny pumping hearts, or suffer from heartache for a mate that betrayed them.

And that was the sad truth of it all. She wanted Jareth to be with her with all her heart, but hated him, she wanted to bear his children and be his wife, but could not stomach the thought of him seeing her as she truly was. Huntress had told herself it was the curse doing it, or maybe a desire for anonymity, but she had opened her eyes to the fact she was afraid. She had no wish to see the repulsion in his eyes when he looked at her, basic feminine self-awareness, yes, but that was not the half of it.

She was afraid that if he recognised her she would be spurned for that, that _whore._ How she hated that woman, that while she had been gone he had loved her instead of Huntress. And then she had been cursed, returned desperate to his arms only to find his love for her had been as shallow as a pixies bathtub.

But as every mother would agree, your own children were something else. They depended on her. Huntress couldn't just _abandon _them, or she would be as bad as a wisher.

If owls could cry...

But no. Why should she? Why should she go back to care for and love the spawn of a man who had been nothing but pain for her? The dwarf- Hoggle- had been right.

And with that, Huntress closed her eyes, and a plain barn owl stretched her wings and flew on into the night.

((()))

Gilderion knelt by the trampled bed of grass, scanning the tracks with a practised eye. They told him that the deer had passed through the isolated clearing an half-hour or so before, and would soon bed down for the night.

His target was the stag travelling with the herd. It was pre-rut, and the stag's antlers had just lost their velvet and hardened into a magnificent rack. He still wore his summer coat.

The sky was clear and dark, and a slight breeze ruffled the air. A silvery cloud drifted over the mountains that surrounded him, its edges glowing with pale light cast from the pale moon cradled between two peaks. The stars were like chips of ice in the sky, fresh, hard, and cold. Streams flowed down the mountains from stolid glaciers and glistening snowpacks. A brooding mist crept over the valley's floor, almost thick enough to obscure Gilderion's feet. Thick woods ranged over the valley, their lush treetops entry to another world deep within. The chirrup of nighttime insects was oddly cheering to the hunter, and far away there was the shriek of an owl.

Gilderion was seventeen, and a hunter. Dark eyebrows rested over his intense brown eyes. Shaggy jaw length black hair framed his face. His clothes were of a simple but sturdy weave and were worn from work. A hunting knife with a bone handle was sheathed at his belt, and a buckskin tube protected his yew bow from the mist. He carried a wood frame pack.

The deer had led him deep in the wooded mountains. Strange men and tales came from the deep woods and untamed mountains, usually boding ill. Despite that, Gilderion did not fear the mountains, he was one of the few hunters in Caena that dared track game into its craggy recesses.

It was the third night of the hunt, and his food was half-gone. If he did not fell the stag, he would be forced to return home empty handed. He needed the deer for the rapidly approaching tithe, and could not afford to lose one of their goats to make up the shortage.

Gilderion strode forward with quiet assurance in the dusky moonlight towards a glen where he was sure the deer would rest. The trees blocked the sky from view and cast thick shadows on the ground. Despite himself, Gilderion shivered. Even he could feel the fey power radiating from the roots.

He crept closer, stringing his bow with a practiced movement. The moonlight revealed the sleeping lumps of the deer lying innocently in the grass. The stag he wanted was just off the centre of the herd, his mighty antlers casting distorted shadows on the ground.

Gilderion would have sworn had he not worried about waking the deer. It would be difficult to hit the stag fatally enough to ensure a victory, but he was confident of his ability. It was lying in a position that would be impossible to kill it outright, but perhaps he could injure it enough to get another shot.

He bit his lip in concentration, aiming carefully down the shaft. The tension of the string cut into his fingers as he drew back the bow smoothly. The yew bent without creaks.

All his work of the last three days had led to this moment. He took a last steadying breath- and fired.

His arrow flew straight and true, and hissed through the air to hit the stag squarely in the knee joint of his left foreleg. The stag roared, and suddenly the night was full of bounding deer. The large creature attempted to bound after them, but his knee failed, the arrow doing its work. Gilderion had expected this, and let loose his second arrow.

It hissed off into the darkness. He cursed loudly, for the stag had managed to get to its feet and was speedily making tracks for the cover of the forest. Wildly he aimed once more and hit the stag in the back of the head.

It crumpled with an outraged bleat, and died.

Gilderion breathed out.

**Huntress- I don't get it.**

**Unique- Get what?**

**Huntress- **_**I closed my eyes, and a plain barn owl stretched her wings and flew on into the night. **_**What?**

**Unique- Nevermind. For the love of little apples, what is he **_**doing? **_

**Huntress- *looks at Jareth, who is menacing Sarah with a rather frightening looking lipstick tube.* God knows.**

**Unique- Hoggle, this is all your fault. **

**Hoggle- Sorry.**

**Unique- You should be. 'Cause now, you can go and-**

**Huntress- Crikey! **

***Sarah screams as Jareth leaps at her and starts attacking her with lipstick tube***

**Unique- What did you give him Hoggle? **

**Hoggle- Rat poison.**

**Unique- Right! As a punishment, you can separate them and give Sarah a chance to shoot Jareth with the tranquiliser.**

**Hoggle- *pales* But, but...**

**Huntress- Ooh, are you **_**afraid? **_**Come on, Hoggle, don't be a spoilsport.**

**Sarah- I'VE HAD ENOUGH! *pounds Jareth through with tranquilisers.* TAKE THAT!**

_**A few seconds later...**_

**Sarah- Hey! Come on guys, this isn't funny! He's really heavy! Hey, guys! DON'T WALK AWAY! Help me out here! Move, you fat son of a...GUYS! Unique, what are you doing with that camera! This isn't funny, at all!**


	12. Less And Less

**Sarah- Alright! Unique is the most awesome person alive and I'm gay! Will you help me move this heffer now? He's starting to come round! *whines* PLEASE!**

**Jareth- *lying on Sarah* groan**

**Huntress- Did he actually just **_**say **_**'groan' then? What do you think, Unique? Shall we move Jareth, or leave him on Sarah?**

**Unique- I want to see his face when he wakes up. I have a camera ready.**

**Sarah- PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU! HE'LL COMPLETELY GET THE WRONG IDEA! Unique, can you just stop being evil for one minute?**

**Unique- No.**

**Jareth- *stirs and opens his eyes* Oh god...**

**Sarah- *hyperventilating* This isn't what it looks like!**

**Jareth- *blinking* **_**Sarah?**_**? What? Since when..? Did I miss something? **

**Sarah- PLEASE MOVE! YOU'RE SQUISHING ME!**

**Jareth- Actually, I'm quite comfortable here. We should do this more often- and I'm not that heavy.**

**Huntress- **_**JARETH! **_**Stop flirting with nearest one-eyed troll and come over here!**

**Sarah- HEY! I AM NOT A- You know what, it's just not worth it.**

_Chapter 12, Less And Less_

The barn owl soared through the darkness, a sharp eye on the ground for any food that might pass her way. She had eaten a mouse already, but was still feeling a bit peckish. She followed the shape of a man-thing for a little while, before looping back over a meadow. Her black eyes surveyed the ground.

Her brown wings made no sound in the air as she dropped, her quarry fixed firmly in her mind. Successfully catching her prey and killing it with a simple squeeze of her claws, she pumped her wings strongly, aligning herself with an updraft. Suddenly, out of the darkness there was a hiss.

The barn owl jinked to one side, away from the hiss. Before she could do anything else, a burning pain hit her wing and she tumbled flightlessly from the air, her pained shreaks filling the quiet night. There was a furious curse of a man-thing.

She crashed into the break-bone ground, and knew no more.

((()))

Jareth lifted Mepha in his arms, kissing her unruly white-gold fluff of hair. She giggled, waving her chubby little fists and blinking her beguiling big beryl eyes. Jareth smiled, his first true smile that day, at his daughter's antics.

Cerywen wailed, missing the attention. Her father grinned and hoisted the indignant baby Cerywen onto his hip, rocking them both and murmuring sweet nothings into Cerywen's brunette hair. Lukai was hopping at his feet, fluttering his weak caramel-bolt grey wings, and puffing out his pure white chest. He jumped, flapping his baby wings hopefully, and cheeping indignantly when his first attempt at flight failed. Jareth chuckled, swooping past and placing giggling Mepha back in her cot while he scooped up Lukai.

The owlet wriggled in his father's arms, squeaking excitedly. "I get it, I get it," Jareth laughed, and obligingly set his son back down.

Bouncing Cerywen, Jareth yawned, covering his mouth with one hand and checking the height of the sun outside. It was just past midday, and depressingly hot. Creatures were all asleep at these times, when it got too hot to do anything else, and Jareth usually seized the chance to go off and have some time to himself or with...

The gaping hole struck through his chest burned again, reminding him of his loss. It got worse, so bad sometimes he feared he would split apart, ripped to pieces. How many more could he withstand? Shoot holes of despair through him till he was as riddled as a cheese...

He closed his eyes, and fought to keep the wetness brimming up under control. He hadn't cried in daytime for almost a week. His lonely, cold nights were a different story.

He heaved a sigh, and turned away, placing Cerywen disconsolately in her crib, and walked away, brooding. He didn't even notice Lukai's despondent chirp as his father wandered away once more, less and less of him coming back each time.

((()))

"My lord, I am sure you are quite aware that my hands are tied in this situation," Lord Haegr said a little desperately, "I cannot authorize this without express permission of Queen Mizumi herself."

"Who has been missing for almost three years," Valgar snapped. "Don't blather, Haegr, and find the goddamn heir!"

"There is none!" Lord Haegr wailed, "Queen Mizumi never saw fit to have a child, and her blood relatives are all dead! Her consort gallivants with birds nowadays, we shall get no answers from him."

The councillor of the Seelie Court rolled his silver eyes. "Just find the heir, Haegr," he sighed wearily. "I don't care what it takes, just find the heir! Surely she and the Goblin King...?"

Haegr shook his head glumly. "Nay, the Goblin King has not been near her for almost two decades. Perhaps once they were passionate lovers, but no longer."

"You misunderstand me. There must be a royal bastard of his somewhere, is there not? All you have to do is find him." Valgar told the lord firmly. "It can't be that difficult, can it?"

"But, my lord, there are some very strange rumours about this king...They say he is wedded to a bird, an owl nonetheless. They say he is bewitched, my lord. No good should come from him." Haegr protested worriedly.

Valgar sighed. "When was he ever good at all, Haegr? Strutting around like some sort of silly peacock! You shall have no trouble from him. Grab the nearest lovechild and bring it back. As long as he could pass for the son of Mizumi and the Goblin King. The whole Underground knows of their love affair."

Haegr gave up reasoning with the obstinate councillor. "As my lord wishes."

_The nearest child that bears the looks of its sire. Shouldn't be too difficult._

**Unique- Yay!**

**Sarah- Who the hell is Mizumi? Lord Haegr? Valgar? **

**Unique- You learn more in the next chappie, but basically, Mizumi is a queen who went missing a little while back. The High Court have got nervous and ordered this bloke to find an heir. There was no legitimate heir for the throne, so the councillor Valgar, representing the High Court, told Lord Haegr to go and pick up the nearest illegitimate child of Jareth's, seeing as everyone knew they were once lovers. **

**Huntress- JARETH!**

**Jareth- *jumps* What is it now, **_**dear? **_

**Huntress- Why didn't you tell me about Mizumi! I thought you loved me! *flounces off***

**Sarah- *lower lip begins to tremble and eyes fill with tears* Is it true? You and Huntress? JARETH! You're horrible! *runs away***

**Unique- Wait- You and Sarah are together? When did this happen?**

**Jareth- *yawns* Well, there's some things Huntress just can't do. *begins to file his nails* I'm sure you understand.**

**Unique- But...YOU CHEATED ON HUNTRESS! **

**Jareth- *angrily* No I did not! I didn't kiss her. It doesn't count if you don't kiss them. **

**Unique- *in an icy voice* So. Pray tell, what did you exactly do?**

**Jareth- Well, first of all, we were both a little drunk. Sarah said a few things which, oddly enough, sounded quite like, "'Jareth! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"' and "'I HATE YOU YOU ASSHOLE!"' Considering I was in a rather compromised position against the hotel wall when she pulled a knife on me, I was a little helpless to resist her...*sighs dreamily***

**Unique- Wait, what? **_**Sarah Williams **_**pulled a knife on you!**

**Jareth- *happily* Yep. That's me girl. Always sticking up for herself when random creeps try and pin her against the hotel wall.**

**Unique- *shakes head* And apparently the fact she tried to kill you-**

**Jareth- -Stabbed me in the stomach-**

**Unique-...means that you're together?**

**Jareth- Apparently so.**


	13. End

Hello, readers.

Those of you who have read some of my other stories will know I'm shutting down most of them. This is because I want to get on to writing my own stuff. I have to say I'm truly unhappy to let go of **Owl Queen **because it's been really funny to write, and honestly I find myself chuckling at the keyboard. But it's veered off into a more serious direction. All it was going to be was a little funny story to keep me happy between my longer, gloomier ones. Yet, it's all changed.

Another reason is I already had another animorph story, **Game of Shadows, **in which Sarah is turned into a cat by a mysterious agency and forced to fight alongside Jareth against the Shadow King. Unfortunately, there has been no mention of the Shadow King- only twenty or so chapters of fillers.

I can tell you how I wanted to end this story, if you want. Just leave a review and I'll post another chapter on.

Feel free to magpie (take the interesting bits and add it to other interesting bits to make a unique and new idea) from this idea if you want.

**Huntress- **Goodbye, people.

**Sarah- **Yeah, bye.

**Jareth- **YES! Oh, umm, oh no! The story's ending!

**Unique- (smiles at her own weirdness and wonders what to type next. Freaks out when her words appear on the screen)**


End file.
